


Trust

by sunshinexbomb



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Soft Dad Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/pseuds/sunshinexbomb
Summary: Dick shrugs, running a hand through his already messy hair, “We were all a bit obsessed with you when we were that age. But it’s probably a bit different for Damian. He’s always working so hard for your approval, and you definitely don’t give it out so easily.”“None of you ever had to prove yourselves to me,” Bruce says, frowning, and Dick actually laughs.“Sure, B. If that’s the case, you have a weird way of showing it. But maybe you should clear that up for the kid, because he’s gonna work himself to the bone trying to prove his worth.”--In which all Bruce wants is for Damian to trust him and all Damian wants is to gain Bruce's approval.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> A _very_ belated Happy Batman Day! I asked Sasha what to write and she said "sleepy Batboys" and this is what stemmed from that.
> 
> None of these characters are my own, but I like playing around with them. Thank you Kassie for being a great beta always ♥

“Father, I really don’t think that it’s appropriate for you to be arranging playdates for me. I’m not a child.”

Bruce doesn’t bother to mention that, at thirteen, Damian is in fact a child, and that if they were a normal family, it would be more than appropriate for Bruce to be arranging playdates for his son. He knows well enough that Damian would not listen to such nonsense and that, more importantly, they are in no way a normal family.

Instead, Bruce says, “It’s not a playdate. It’s a training session.”

“I do not need to be training with _Jonathan Kent_,” Damian insists. He’s all but pouting and the corner of Bruce’s mouth nearly ticks up.

“Jonathan Kent will be a valuable ally for you one day, and there’s no reason to turn down an opportunity for training with him.”

“Father,” Damian says, “he’s _ten_.”

“The Clarks will be here in an hour,” Bruce tells him and feels a bubble of fondness watching Damian stomp off in a huff.

\--

Bruce is supposed to be going over intel with Clark while the boys are down in the Cave, working on a training simulation with Dick. They don’t end up working for long - fifteen, maybe twenty minutes - before Alfred brings them both strong cups of coffee and the reports they’re looking over lie forgotten.

“Do you think Dick is handling things alright?” Clark asks. He doesn’t sound particularly concerned, and there’s a smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’m sure he’ll manage,” Bruce says. Damian can be a handful, and even worse somehow when Jon is around, but it’s not like Dick was ever anything other than a terror himself. If nothing else, it’ll make for an interesting afternoon for all three of them. “Damian trusts Dick - respects him even. That alone will go a long way to keep him in check.”

Clark studies Bruce’s face carefully. Bruce doesn’t fidget, ever, but there’s something about Clark’s thoughtful expression that’s always made him feel a bit unnerved, like he should shy away before Clark can find whatever it is he’s looking for. Logically, Bruce knows that Clark cannot read thoughts, though often it seems as if he knows exactly what Bruce is thinking at any given moment.

“Something about that bothers you,” Clark says finally, taking a sip from his mug as he waits for Bruce to respond.

“Of course not,” Bruce insists. “Damian needs someone in his life that he can trust.”

“But-?” Clark prompts, an eyebrow raised.

Bruce’s grip tightens around his mug, knuckles whitening with the force. “But nothing.”

“Bruce-”

“Clark.”

Clark has a way of seeing through Bruce that has nothing to do with his super-vision. To put it bluntly, Bruce does not like it. He doesn’t like being seen, being known. His whole life relies on him hiding behind a mask of one type or another, and Clark has always been the one who can easily look past all the masks.

“You know I won’t let it go,” Clark says, and it’s light, teasing, but there’s a firmness behind the statement also.

“I know,” Bruce says.

He can be just as stubborn as Clark and they both know it. But Bruce has a heaviness in his chest that he wants to clear up. He just hates that he has to _open up_ to help alleviate it.

Clark is endlessly patient always, and he waits while Bruce stares down into his mug, eyes focused on the deep rich color of his coffee instead of Clark’s gaze. 

Finally, Bruce says, “I worry that Damian’s not fully adjusting to life here.”

“You knew that it would take time,” Clark says and Bruce nods.

“I did - I do - but -” Bruce hesitates, trying to find the right words. “I worry that it’s because of me that he’s not adjusting. Because I’m doing something wrong, or because he doesn’t trust me the way he trusts Dick.”

It’s something Bruce has never mentioned to anyone, not to Alfred, definitely not to Dick. It’s a sharp, gnawing worry that he’s kept buried because how _can_ he admit to someone that he’s messing something like this up, that he can’t get his own son to open up to him in the way he wants.

Clark is quiet, and when Bruce looks up, his eyes are softer. “You’re his father,” Clark says gently.

“Does that really mean anything, though?” Bruce asks, trying to keep the bite out of his voice.

“For some people, maybe not. But Bruce, you have a big heart, even if you don’t wear it on your sleeve like others do. I know you love Damian, and I think he knows that too. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“It’s hard to believe that sometimes,” Bruce admits.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but just give it time,” Clark says, and he says it like a promise. “I think that Damian will find ways to show he trusts you. They just might not be the traditional ways that you would expect.”

Clark’s right, it’s not what Bruce wants to hear. Still, it does ease the tension that Bruce always seems to be carrying, at least a little. 

“I hope you’re right,” Bruce says and Clark gives him a coy smile.

“I’m always right. I’m Superman, afterall,” Clark says, teasing and it’s unexpected enough to make Bruce smile.

\--

The boys come back up to the manor in one piece, which is already more than what Bruce can ask for. 

“How did your training go?” Bruce asks.

“I beat Grayson’s time in the simulator,” Damian says smugly.

“_We_ beat the time,” Jon says. “You didn’t do it on your own.”

“I might as well have,” Damian says, and then lets out an uncharacteristic squeak in surprise when Dick tickles his ribs. 

“Be nice - Jon saved your butt more than once,” Dick says, plopping down in the seat next to Bruce. 

“_Tt, _that’s not how I remember it,” Damian insists, standing between Dick and Bruce with his arms crossed.

“Well, that’s how it happened,” Jon says, taking the last empty seat next to Clark.

Bruce doesn’t miss the way that Damian rolls his eyes, and from the small smile on Dick’s face, it’s clear he doesn’t either.

“Well, either way, I think congratulations are in order for a job well done,” Clark says, mussing Jon’s hair. “How about we all have dinner together before we head back home?”

“Pizza?” Jon asks, and even Damian brightens at the idea.

“I think Grayson should pay,” Damian says, leaning slightly against Bruce’s chair. 

Dick frowns. “You think Grayson should what?”

“I think that’s very generous of you, Dick. Thank you,” Bruce says, voice completely level.

“Yeah, thanks Dick, you’re the best!” Jon says, wide grin framing his face and eyes crinkling with mischief in a carbon copy of Lois.

“What-?” Dick starts, mouth agape.

“We appreciate it, Dick,” Clark adds on and Dick groans.

“I hate you guys,” he mumbles, nevertheless pulling out his phone. 

Bruce’s own mouth quirks up when he catches Damian and Jon exchanging grins.

\--

They eat dinner in front of the TV, watching first a movie of Jon’s choice and then turning on one of Damian’s choices. The boys barely make it halfway through the second film, though, before they’re drifting off, both of them sound asleep before the movie is finished. 

Jon’s sprawled across Clark’s lap, Clark stroking his hair gently with a soft smile. Damian’s fallen asleep against Bruce’s side, solid and warm. Bruce is always surprised by how Damian looks _so young _when all his sharp edges are softened by sleep. 

“I guess this is a sign we should head home,” Clark says, laughing quietly. 

“You’re always free to stay. It’s not like we don’t have the room,” Bruce offers but Clark shakes his head. 

“I’m sure Lois is already furious that we’re not back yet,” he says. He gets up slowly, lifting Jon easily but still trying carefully not to jostle him. “Thanks for having us around. I think it was good for the boys.”

“Anytime. I can walk you out,” Bruce says, and Clark must see his reluctance to move because he declines. 

“I know the way, it’s fine. I’ll see you soon, Bruce. And it was good to see you, Dick. Thanks for dinner,” Clark grins. 

“Of course, my treat,” Dick grumbles, but there’s a clear smile on his face as he waves from his spot on the floor. 

It’s quiet as Clark leaves, the only sounds coming from the low volume of the TV. Bruce is starting to drift himself and he glances down at Dick. 

“You’re also free to stay, you know. Anytime,” Bruce says and Dick gives him a gentle smile. 

“I know, but not tonight. Soon though,” Dick promises and Bruce nods. 

Damian shuffles a little against him, but still doesn’t stir, deep in sleep, and probably exhausted from training earlier. Bruce shifts along with him, making sure Damian is still comfortable. 

“I can get the little monster to bed before I go,” Dick offers. 

“No, I’ve got it,” Bruce says, “it’s not a problem.”

Dick gets up, stretching out surely stiff muscles as he does so. “He wouldn’t shut up about you all day,” Dick says, pitching his voice up in imitation of Damian when he says, “_Is this session being filmed, Grayson? Will Father be seeing this, Grayson? You’ll be letting Father know about our progress, right, Grayson?”_

Bruce raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Is that so?”

“I mean,” Dick shrugs, running a hand through his already messy hair, “we were all a bit obsessed with you when we were that age. But it’s probably a bit different for Damian. He’s always working so hard for your approval, and you definitely don’t give it out so easily.”

“None of you ever had to prove yourselves to me,” Bruce says, frowning, and Dick actually laughs. 

“Sure, B. If that’s the case, you have a weird way of showing it. But maybe you should clear that up for the kid, because he’s gonna work himself to the bone trying to prove his worth.”

Bruce’s frown deepens as he looks down at Damian. There’s a lock of hair falling in his face that Bruce moves away gently while studying his expression carefully. 

“It was never my intention to make any of you work so hard for anything,” Bruce says. 

Dick shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s exactly true,” he says, “but I think even if it was, we all would’ve worked ourselves anyway, Damian especially.”

Bruce feels like he should apologize, but he’s not sure for what. Instead, he’s quiet as Dick gathers up his things and checks his phone. 

Slowly, as Dick is about ready to leave, Bruce starts to get up also. Bruce is careful with Damian, trying not to jostle him as he picks him up. Damian is small for his age, maybe even smaller than Dick was at the same age, and it’s easy enough for Bruce to cradle him to his chest. 

“Thank you for coming around today,” Bruce says finally. 

“Anytime,” Dick says with a small smile. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

Bruce nods, following Dick out of the living area before they part ways, Dick heading towards the front of the manor and Bruce towards the back to take Damian up the stairs. 

Damian finally stirs a little as Bruce is lowering him down to his bed, and his voice is still thick with sleep as he asks, “Dick?” 

“No, just me,” Bruce says quietly, pushing Damian’s hair back again with a soft touch. 

“Dick never stays,” Damian mumbles, leaning into Bruce’s touch. 

“He says he will soon,” Bruce says and Damian makes a quiet noise, somehow sounding disapproving even when he’s mostly asleep. 

Bruce thinks about Dick’s words, about Clark’s earlier that day. He bites the inside of his cheek, wondering what he can do, what he can say, to start proving to himself that maybe Clark was right, and proving himself that he can fix the things he might have done wrong in the past. 

“Damian,” Bruce says. Damian’s on the brink of sleep, but he still hums gently to show he’s listening. “I’m - I think you did a good job today in your training. I’m glad you worked so well with Jon and - I’m proud of you.”

Damian is quiet, and Bruce wonders for a second if he drifted off before hearing any of what Bruce said. But then comes a soft mumble, and Damian saying, “Thank you, Father,” quietly. 

Bruce smiles, waiting as Damian gives into sleep and drifts off completely. Before he leaves, Bruce pulls Damian’s blankets farther up and turns off the light as he makes his way out the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Come talk to me about dumb soft bats on Twitter @[tjoshov](http://twitter.com/tjoshov) or on Tumblr @[singledadniall](http://singledadniall.tumblr.com).


End file.
